


Fate Has Its Way

by altairisbae



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Soulmates, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-05-20 20:19:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19383973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altairisbae/pseuds/altairisbae
Summary: Anastasia was just enjoying some much needed freedom on her apartment's balcony when she was pushed off of it.By whom? Why? She doesn't know, all she knows was that she ended up in what had to be afterlife, her personal heaven, as she was found by her favorite game character, in all his handsome glory.But maybe it wasn't heaven, as he almost immediately starts being a huge asshole to her.And maybe it was all real anyway, somehow.





	1. Prologue

I fought the urge to throw the pad across the room, as the man on the screen fell down the tall building, hitting the ground below with a loud groan, red and grey flashing on the wide screen, signalizing the loss of synchronization with the ancestor. In other words - I died. Pathetically so, at that.

"Oh, come the fuck on!" I yelled, probably inappropriately loud for the late hour displayed on the digital clock on my nightstand, stretching my left hand's fingers.

I'd been climbing one of the tallest buildings in Assassin's Creed II, gracefully moving Ezio up its windows and edges, and was almost at the synchronization point, when my fingers got a cramp and moved a little too much to the left, resulting in a much quicker way down than could be deemed reasonable.

I sighed and waited as the game loaded, moving the Auditore hottie pointlessly, running in circles, anxious to try to climb that monstrous chapel again.

I played for some time more but soon started to feel boredom take the excitement's place and I knew exactly why. 

I began this replay of all the Assassin's Creed games because of one specific reason. I missed my favorite character -Altair. And I'd finished the first game much too quickly, a few hours prior and was already aching for more content with him. The one memory of his in this game was too little and his memories in Revelation too far ahead.

I've also read all of the canon and fan content there was to read concerning him, so my thirst had nothing to be satisfied with now. I was truly in a desperate place.

"Fuck it," I murmured, turning the first game of Ezio's trilogy off, stood up, walked up to the Xbox and replaced its CD with the one of the first game, still close by, exactly where I disregarded it earlier that day.

A few minutes later, I was beginning my journey with Altair again, this time to try to get everything done in the game on the same save. The system of it was a bit annoying, as if I left the game anywhere during any memory block, I'd have to begin the entire block again from the beginning, but I decided to suffer through it.

I'd been collecting all the Masyaf flags in the city when I decided to take a short break. Grabbing the packet of cigarettes and a lighter, I got up from the bed with a sound I'd be been embarrassed to have produced were there anyone here, and made for the little balcony. The glass door was unlocked as I had left it open to try to get some wind flowing through my room to try ease the heat of my country's summer earlier. 

I took one of the white sticks and lighted it with the purple lighter, sucking in my first lungful of the smoke, and put both the packet and the lighter in a pocket of my loose blazer.

I stared at the view from all the way up from my apartment, loving how the moon shone over the city, giving the scenery, the city lights, the still busy streets, a mysterious look and feel. It was beautiful.

I was halfway through the cigarette when I decided to try making smoke O's. I never was able to but still almost always tried to do so. This time was no different.

I crushed the cigarette against the balcony handrail, ending this session of pleasure, and threw it over, letting it fall somewhere below the building.

It was all a bad habit, I knew, but I just liked it. I didn't feel addicted, I could easily last without smoking for a long time, especially when I didn't have enough money to want to spend on such things, or when my parents were in town, rare as it was. And anyway, I only smoked occasionally - at parties or when I had some and felt like it.

Excuses, excuses...

I stretched my arms forward, entangling my fingers together and let out a big sigh. Then I braced myself against the handrail and lifted myself slightly, standing on my toes, stretching my legs as well,one at a time.

It was then that I felt a hard push.

Then I felt the handrail of my balcony pressing against suspicious parts of my body.

And then I was falling.


	2. First Impressions

The next thing I remember thinking was 'I'm not dead'.

I was lying down, sore in every single part of my seventeen year old body, surrounded with something irritating my skin and blocking my view fully. 

I groaned and stretched out my hand to try to make way for my eyes and quickly realized, even in my current state, that it was hay I was underneath.

Why was there hay under my building, and how did I never notice the, apparently, deep enough to cover a human body, stack? 

I wasn't sure whether I could move yet, and the hay was allowing me to breathe still, so I remained where I was, too scared to call anyone for help at this hour.

This hour...

Right, it was supposed to be nighttime. Then why did I see bright light shining through the pale hay, feel its heat on my covered body?

Have I been out for that long? And no one noticed me? By how hot it was, it had to be at least noon. Probably later than that.

Groaning, I decided I had to get up already. I started to raise my torso from the soft layer of hay, when I was violently forced back down by something that had to be a person, judging by the sound they were making, making its way into the stack, landing on top of me.

Fear rose in my chest, remembering how I got there in the first place - someone pushed me off my balcony. Did they come to finish me off now?

I started screaming, both out of fear and trying to alert anyone nearby, but he - it was a him, judging by the deep sounds and musky smell- covered my mouth, searching for it first for a second, before I could stop him.

He whispered something lowly in my ear, something in another language that I could not understand. If I had to guess, it was Arabic. 

I could deduct that he meant for me to be quiet, and not knowing fully why, I obliged. I guess I sensed somehow that he didn't actually mean to hurt me, he'd have just done it already. And as my head got clearer, I realized that the person who pushed me off would not wait half a day to come and see if I was dead yet.

In the silence that fell between the two of us, I started to hear things coming from outside the stack. People's voices - some speaking, or rather screaming, the same language as the man on top of me, some what was definitely French. I could also hear that they were all running around, as well as the sounds of metal clashing and horses crying out and running away from the noise.

What the hell...

Suddenly there was some more movement right around us, as well as the sounds of men panting, yelling something out in French, their voices dulled by something they had to be covering their mouths with.

When they were far away enough, my companion lowered his hand slowly, as if not sure I'd not give our position away to whoever he was hiding from.

Then after a few seconds, I felt the weight of the man being lifted off of me, his scent stopping to surround me. I ungracefully lifted myself as well, eager to see what all the noise was about. When my head made its way out of the stack, I unwillingly blinked a few times, taken aback what I saw.

I was definitely not under my apartment building. 

Hell, I was definitely not in my city. 

And standing before me was Altair, looking behind me, where most of the weird noise seemed to be coming from. 

I remained in the stack, completely dumbfounded as I tried to make sense of whatever was happening. 

God, I'm dead. I died when I hit the ground. This is what my personal heaven is like. In the world of my favorite game, with my favorite character. And God, I'm dead. 

The man must have noticed my lack of movement and directed his eyes toward me. He looked a little surprised when he took in my appearance. Right, I probably didn't look the part of the usual Masyaf village woman. Well, he hasn't even seen most of my clothes yet. 

He spoke to me in what must have been Arabic, I remembered, and extended his hand towards me, offering his help. Still in utter shock, I took it, not believing any of that was happening. 

His palm's skin felt rough and a bit dry against mine, but incredibly warm. I felt a little spark when our hands touched, and my heart skipped a beat, as I clumsily put my feet, one at a time on the ground, not daring to look at him. 

He definitely was looking at me, and as soon as I was firmly on the ground, I heard a sound escape his mouth as he saw my attire fully. 

The assassin started speaking to me again and I looked up at him through the mess that was happening inside my head, trying to think of what I should do. 

As a complete history nerd, I knew he would not speak English. Only low-class people in England spoke what I could consider early English now, the language of aristocracy was Anglo-Norman French, which he would have used to communicate with Robert. But I could not speak French to him, or he'd assume me a Templar. And I definitely didn't know Arabic. 

What the fuck, why am I trying to be logistical in this situation. Just like pinch your arm and wake up. 

He must have understood that I cannot speak his tongue and started to signal with his fingers. Through my confusion and nausea I focused enough to get that he meant for me to stay there and hide. I nodded, a little slow and watched the little of his face that I could see twist in some emotion I couldn't place. 

He was gone before I noticed it. I turned around and finally got my answer as to what all the yelling I heard was about. 

Masyaf was under attack. 

People yelling in French... Oh my God, they were Templars. Templars were attacking Masyaf. And I was right there. Hiding behind a haystack. After having met Altair Ibn-La'Ahad. 

I started laughing. Actually chuckling to myself as I lowered myself, sitting down, resting my head against some building, feeling my knees shake. But at least I was out of sight of anyone passing by. I started counting my breaths, and got to 154 before I could consider myself well enough to function. I stayed in my position for a solid few minutes more though, not daring to move an inch, knowing I was on the verge of throwing up. 

If this was a dream, it was scarily realistic. I could hear men screaming in agony and fury, hear their swords making contact with other swords or with flesh. The last sound was the least pleasant one. Or so I thought, until I heard a woman nearby cry out, her voice full of fear. 

I raised my head, trying to determine where it was coming from and then I was getting up. I spotted her almost immediately. She was being dragged somewhere by one of the Templar soldiers. 

Spoils of war... 

I don't know whether it was the fact that I still didn't believe any of what was going on was real or the fact that I feared it was made me react immediately, but soon enough I was on my way, the sounds of battle still very much present not far away, echoing inside my skull painfully. 

There was a voice at the back of my head saying that the man was armed and I was not. But there was also a louder one saying that I should save the woman from that pig, especially since it was either my dream or some fucked up afterlife I ended up in. Either way, I could not ignore injustice being served. 

The Templar was facing the other way, thankfully. Before I knew it, my knee was in between his legs, and the woman, clearly one of the poorer ones living here, used the moment to break free. 

She started screaming at me, clearly thanking me, before she ran away in the direction I knew the castle was located. The man on the ground was clutching at his groin, cursing in French , probably loudly, but I could barely hear him as I took my surroundings in. 

The Castle of Masya in its full glory was right there. The home of the Assasins stood before me, unmistakably real. 

Is this a coma I'm in? This wasn't like other lucid dreams I had, and was way too realistic to be one or any other dream. But again, would coma dreams be?

I heard the sounds of someone running behind me and quickly turned around, seeing white and red and hearing the sound of a hidden blade being used and I knew the man I left on the ground was dead. Except he wasn't on the ground now, but on his feet, closer to me than he was before, a blade with an arm attached to it sticking out of his throat. 

So the assassin was saving me. I quickly recognized that it was my favorite character again and fought the urge to swoon. This was definitely not the moment to fangirl. 

Suddenly there was even more shouting and looking behind my savior, I saw that the Assasins where the cause of it. They were yelling at each other, repeating the same word over and over again and waving their hands. I quickly realized it was a signal for all of them to retreat. 

Altair grabbed my wrist , speaking to me once again, dragging me behind him as he followed his brothers. The tempo he set was a bit much for my shaking legs, but I forced them to move in synch with his. It still wasn't quite enough though, as his were longer and I found myself having to speed up once every few seconds to catch up, which made me feel quite awkward and pathetic, but I doubted he cared at the moment. 

I saw him glance at my clothing and suddenly he halted, and me with him. He raised my arm by the wrist and pointed at the little bit of skin that was showing now, that the sleeve of the blazer was up, all while saying something in a confused tone, other assassins passing us constantly. 

For a second I thought he meant for me to explain my odd attire, but quickly realized what he meant. 

My tattoo. My Assasins' symbol tattoo on the side of my wrist, tiny little thing in all black. 

He was staring at me,revealing more of his face, clearly demanding an answer, which now he probably thought he should be able to get, since he thought me connected to the order. If I could somehow be that, I had to speak his language. 

My helplessness must have shown in my eyes cause he just sighed angrily, and made for the castle again, still dragging me behind him. 

Asshole. 

Granted, I knew he was, until the events of the first game, but I'd assume that my dream version of him would have been nicer. 

Oh well.

I'll take what I can get, before this weird dream is over.


End file.
